


The Unoriginal sin

by FireWithFire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Party, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 22:04:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireWithFire/pseuds/FireWithFire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's been saving people, there's a party for that. There's some vodka martinis, some dancing to old hits. And, well, events progress, thanks to some people who don't care about them being blatantly obvious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unoriginal sin

**Author's Note:**

> Could be a sequel, another part or something for my previous work, [A Monster of Choice](http://archiveofourown.org/works/651828) \- but it can and should be treated as a separate one. It would be much safer and easier that way, but hey, whatever floats your boat!

Stiles knew not whether it had been the joy and relief after yet another successful chase after yet another extra freaky, unwanted and vicious citizen of Beacon Hills, or maybe it was the fourth vodka martini the girls made him drink, but he most definitely was blushing. His face was gaining this cute reddish shade, he felt weirdly warm and he couldn’t keep smiling and laughing like an idiot.

 

Yes, it was definitely the fourth serving of tiny onions on a toothpick, with alcohol on the side. Or, perhaps, Derek’s fingers, intertwining and playing softly with his own under the table.

 

*

 

They’d all returned safe a couple days ago. It’d all been fine, safe and predictable from the day the newest evil in town perished. Up till then, the bruises have healed, scratches disappeared, mental wounds began to seem distant and insignificant yet again.

 

“We need a party!”, Erica said when the pack, Stiles and Lydia gathered in the living room to fight over the cheesy chick-flick and the cheesy action-packed movie. It _was_ supposed to be another movie night at the Hales’, but hey, you throw a bunch of hormonal teenagers into a room, add superpowers, shake well and _voila_ , a perfectly good quarrel ready, serve with croutons while still hot.

 

“What party?”, Lydia asked curiously.

 

“Nothing big, you know, get some booze, food and music and have some fun,” Erica explained. “Guys, we’ve killed something bad and ugly again. We do deserve an evening of just us. No hunting, no killing stuff, except for our brain cells with drinks. What do you say?”

 

“I say you’re underage,” Peter scoffed, trying to sound at least distantly parentish, but they all saw the corner of his mouth twitching a little.

 

“That’s why you’ll be on the booze-duty, unca,” Lydia retorted slowly, as if she wanted to make sure he understood her.

 

“Derek, I hope you kept the receipt. Tomorrow morning we’re taking those kids back to the store, I want my money back,” Peter said.

 

Derek shrugged. A party seemed fine by him, it’s not like he actually had plans or deadlines to keep. After the last monster intruder he thought he deserved some relaxation, too, and since a werewolf spa was nowhere to be found, drinking seemed fine.

 

“Fine, we’ll get some food, Stiles, find us some music and get Scott to come, too. He helped,” Erica enumerated. She had entered the stance of planning, a disease she must’ve caught from Lydia at some point. “Derek, please, clean up a little, I mean, it literally looks like a tornado came by and had a family meeting, or something--”, she suddenly stopped talking once she realised whom she was talking to in such manner. But Derek jus shrugged again, sighed dramatically and nodded.

 

“Isaac and I will make a cake, and maybe cookies,” Lydia offered, and Isaac nodded a bit more enthusiastically than necessary.

 

Everyone took their orders and agreed on them. They had little choice whatsoever anyway, so...

 

“There! Done! That’s how you plan a simple party!”, Erica exclaimed, glowing with pride.

 

“Good job,” Lydia praised her, sincerely and with a cute smile. “You still have a bit more to learn about huge events, but you’re on a great trail, sweetie.”

 

*

 

Stiles did manage to convince Scott to come. It wasn’t all easy, but Scott gave in pretty quickly to his friend’s arguments. After all, they hadn’t been out in ages and frankly, Scott thought he could use some time apart from Allison, before they grow into one big blob of sweetness and sex. Plus, he thought it would be a great opportunity to talk his mom into making an enormous bowl of her chicken potato salad.

 

And so they were, entering the jeep. It seemed as if Stiles decided to bring all the music in the world, all that was missing was a lyre and a drum made of animal skin to fit the image of the back seat snowed under a pile of CDs, and Stiles’ laptop was barely visible from under them.

 

 

“Dude, are you planning on partying forever?”, Scott asked.

 

“Dude, are you planning on feeding an army?”, Stiles replied, eyeing the bowl on his friend’s lap, the bowl the size of a small suburban swimming pool.

 

“My mom went ballistic,” the werewolf agreed. “She was relieved that we’re all alive and, apparently, decided to immobilize us be overfeeding us.”

 

“Well, that is quite an overkill, but worry not, them werewolves will eat every amount of food you put in front of them and demand more,” Stiles laughed, starting the engine (third time’s the charm) and driving to Derek’s house. Derek and Peter’s house. The Hale residence, that is.

 

*

 

Nobody knew where Erica had got the shaker and so much ice. Or where had Boyd learned how to mix drinks. But nobody cared to question it, in case the answers were terrifying and could leave them all emotionally scarred for the rest of their lives.

 

But it was nice, actually. They’d never got a chance to just sit, talk about movies, books, friends. The latter preferred by the girls, but their chirping just overwhelmed the room.

 

*

 

_“I can’t drink, I drove here.”_

_“Oh boo hoo, you’ll stay the night!”_

_“Um, I don’t know...”_

_“We’ll find you a place to sleep, right, Derek?”_

_“Sure.”_

_“Listen to your uncle, boy. And you, here, have a drink, kid!”_

 

*

 

After the second drink, Stiles felt a slight nudge. Derek’s knee bumped into his for a thousandth time. He looked up and saw alpha’s face, his cheeks a little more pink than usual. Their eyes met for a brief second over Derek’s gin and tonic, and Stiles quickly looked away. _Jesus_ , his face started getting warm, and oh God, did Derek smile at him, he did, he actually smiled! It was not much, just a small smile, not even teeth there, but a smile, and oh my God, Derek looked so much... different, lighting up just that much. Stiles glimpsed again, just to check, because maybe it was just an illusion, light reflected by his glass or maybe the western wind that pushes the foamy waves along? Or maybe just his imagination, playing a trick on him, like when it said that there was a fly in the room because he heard the buzzing that turned out to be his dad trying to call him and furious because he hadn’t picked up the first gazillion times? But the smile was gone. Stiles took a deep look at his glass. _What’s up, martini, you playing tricks on me? You better stop before I get angry._

 

The music he downloaded was getting to him, and was getting to him harder than the alcohol. To Erica, too. She saw him swing a little to the rhythm and waited no longer. She stood up, grabbed his arm and swung him to the... improvised dance floor, in the living room, where they pushed aside the furniture. Isaac turned the volume up a nodge. It was “America”, from West Side Story, and they started the routine. He was surprised he knew the lyrics, he hadn’t seen the musical in, like, forever, but Erica knew them too, and she did the accent like she actually came from Puerto Rico. It was both hilarious and strangely energetic. He’d never seen the girl move like this before. Peter started clapping, Boyd and Scott joined him immediately. Lydia stood up, too, and danced alongside Erica, and Isaac jumped to Stiles’ aid. When they forgot the moves, they made up their own, they messed up the notes more than it was legal, but they had just too much fun too stop.

 

For that one song, it was like they’d never fought, like there had never been any threat to their lives and there would never be one again. They felt like a family, having a meeting after a long time. They felt like a pack.

 

Only Derek was sitting, grumpy as always, shooting disapproving glances at them as Erica put her arms around Stiles’ neck, and Isaac caught Lydia in his arms.

 

“Why the stink-eye, nephew?”, Peter asked quietly.

 

“What?”

 

“You’re giving them the same look you give every bird that dared relieve itself onto thy precious Camaro,” Peter explained patiently.

 

Derek huffed and mumbled something unintelligible in response, getting another sip of his drink just as the kids decided it was enough and they need a break. And, a drink. Stiles sat back on his chair, and Derek couldn’t not notice his flushed cheeks, his wide open eyes and his accelerated breath. Alpha downed his drink and stood up, to get himself another one. As he sat back down, chewing on a slice of lemon, Stiles was looking directly at him.

 

“I thought werewolves can’t get drunk,” he said.

 

“Why?”, Lydia asked, catching his words from across the table.

 

“Scott couldn’t, and he’d had as much Jack Daniels as I had, and he was fine. And Derek is blushing.”

 

“Werewolves can’t get drunk,” Peter explained.

 

“They can on some kinds of alcohol,” Derek said, calmly, not looking at anyone. “Absinth, for example. Wormwood intoxicates us pretty well.”

 

“What about juniper?”, Stiles asked, and, seemingly, he was just curious, as if that could be another position he would later add to his bestiary.

 

Derek hesitated for a moment, before nodding and shooting Peter the angriest glare he had in his repertoire.

 

*

 

“Let’s go,” Peter whispered in Lydia’s ear and pretended not to notice that she shrugged. “Time to walk you home.”

 

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking?”, she said, glancing briefly at the other side of the table.

 

“I think so, Lady Vader. I think so. Erica, Isaac, Boyd, move your butts. We’re walking the dame home so she’s safe.”

 

“Why?”, Boyd said absentmindedly.

 

“Because I said so, darling, and I’m older and more vicious than all of you combined,” Peter explained.

 

“We’re leaving the Lady and the Tramp over there to themselves?”, Erica asked. She was more quick-witted than she’d like to be seen, she caught up on what was going on right away, so Peter just nodded.

 

“Move, McCall, you’re coming with us,” Lydia hissed, jabbing Scott in the arm with her nail.

 

“Why? I don’t want to go, I’m fine, unless you plan on stabbing me to death,” he mumbled, not taking his eyes off of his phone’s screen.

 

“Because I say so, that’s for starters. Plus, do you want me to walk with the Scar, Shenzi, Banzai and Ed quartet over here? Get off your ass.”

 

“But I’m sleeping here--”

 

“So do they. Up we go!”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Derek,” Peter started softly. “We’re going to walk Lydia home. Do you want to tag along no that’s what I thought okay we’ll be back not so soon bye!”, he rambled on, pushing the kids out the door. Derek didn’t even notice they left until the door closed behind them.

 

“Where is everyone?”, he asked stupidly, looking around.

 

“They-- they said something about walking Lydia home,” Stiles mumbled and he couldn’t stop looking and Derek’s jawline because damn that last drink really made him realise just how amazingly handsome that grumpy alpha really was and actually he was quite fun to talk to if you got to him from the right angle--

 

“Well, fine by me. What do you want to do now? We have some movies, I guess—

 

Damn you, fourth vodka martini.

 

“This,” Stiles said, leaning forward and kissing Derek on the lips. He prayed that he returned the kiss. When that happened, Stiles was happier than ever.

 

“Juniper, what a big load of bullshit. Kid’s drunk off Stiles’ pheromones or something. Juniper, yeah right,” Peter laughed when they made it sufficiently far from the residence.

 

*

 

Derek lightly pushed Stiles on the bed and closed the door behind them. He sat besides the hyperactive teenager, who could barely sit still right now, looked him in the eye for a moment, closed his eyes and leaned in, kissing him softly. He hesitated, scared that Stiles might just back away, as if they hadn’t just kissed in the hall. But Stiles didn’t, in fact, he moved slightly closer to the werewolf, putting his hand on his shoulder. The boy smelled like caramel, sweet and irresistible, and a kind of scent that’s left on warm skin after bathing in ocean water, a mix so intoxicating Derek got really dizzy. He broke the kiss and took a deep breath, eyes still closed. He tried to steal another kiss and felt that Stiles was smiling. Derek opened his eyes and blinked.

 

“What’s so funny?”, he asked.

 

“You,” Stiles chuckled. “You’re so nervous!”

 

“So are you, I can feel you’re shaking!”, Derek whispered, pressing his cheek against the teenager’s neck.

 

“No I’m not!”, Stiles sounded so indignant Derek almost bought it. “It’s shivers, sourwolf. You give me shivers, in a good sense this time,” he explained, lifting his hand to Derek’s nape, sliding his fingers down alpha’s back.

 

Derek shook off the shiver running down his spine and unzipped Stiles’ hoodie and taking it off of him, kissing his collarbone. Stiles threw his head back, breathing a bit more heavily, his heartbeat faster than usual. Alpha’s heart was pounding even harder, he’d been waiting for this moment, to press his lips against this soft skin, for such a long time--

 

Stiles slipped his hand under Derek’s shirt and scratched his stomach, delicately at first, then more boldly. Derek hissed and moved his head back, his nose brushed lightly Stiles’.

 

And Stiles pulled him close, and kissed him, not softly anymore. His lips were soft, hot and he craved Derek. He moaned quietly, and pulled off Derek’s shirt - and he did the same to Stiles’, although it seemed he was just a second away from tearing it apart just so they wouldn’t have to stop kissing for that brief moment. And even though the werewolf was glad, because now he could touch Stiles’ all the way he wanted, the teenager pulled away and frowned.

 

“Do you always have to wear a tank top underneath your shirt?”, he rasped.

 

“Yeah. Kind of my thing,” Derek whispered and started kissing his jaw and neck.

 

Stiles moaned again, a bit louder, as Derek’s stubble brushed on his skin, as Derek’s lips and _oh my God_ Derek’s tongue left a trail down his neck, and when his hot lips pressed against Stiles’ chest. He laid on his back, and with the change of position came a sudden realisation of how tight his briefs had become in the last half hour or so, as Derek pulled up a little and his slid his knee between Stiles’ thighs and his leg pressed lightly on him. He ran his nails down Derek’s ribs, and grasped on his belt. He struggled a little with the buckle, but opened it eventually, and did so with the button and the fly as well.

 

Derek grabbed his wrist just as he was about to slide his hand down alpha’s boxers.

 

“Hey, easy there, cowboy,” Derek purred and softly bit Stiles’ nipple. “What’s the rush?”

 

“You-- Derek, I-- Oh come on--”, Stiles groaned.

 

Derek just laughed softly, with that deep, dark laughter from deep within his chest, that rough sound Stiles had only heard a couple of times before, as he pulled both Stiles’ hands behind his head and pinned his wrists with one hand.

 

“Oh, not fair, not fair, not fair--”, Stiles whimpered, wriggling as much as he could, stopped only by the kiss.

 

For a second, Stiles was sure that kiss will bruise them both, bruise their lips. Derek broke it quickly and teased him, touching the teenager’s lower lip with his tongue and biting it, softly, and it was so sexy Stiles began to shiver again.

 

How Derek managed to unzip Stiles’ pants with one hand will forever be his secret, but so he did. He struggled to take them off him, and Stiles lifted his hips a little to help him. Plus, he used the moment when Derek dozed off a little, looking all over his body, and freed his hands. He ran them through the werewolf’s chest, abs and, with one quick motion, pulling down his pants. Derek laughed and kicked them off.

 

“Fine,” he said softly. “Let it be your way,” he whispered and returned to kiss Stiles’ neck, collarbone, chest, neck again, behind his ear--

 

Stiles knew Derek was hard. He didn’t need to see it, nor touch it, although he wanted to, he wanted to so badly he felt a warm pang low in his stomach. He just knew, because, hey, how could he not be, Stiles was quite a catch, now an almost naked catch, and there was Derek’s thigh again, rubbing softly against his briefs and driving him insane and making him pull alpha on himself, make the hot skin touch his. He pinched Derek’s nipple, and that rewarded him with a growly moan right next to his ear, which almost sent him through the roof. And then Derek slid lower, licking Stiles’ chest, leaving a hot, wet trail on his skin, on his belly, and lower, along his briefs’ edge. Stiles rolled his hips, just a little, just to give a hint, and Derek could hear, he could see his pulse as the wet fabric, which was at the verge of breaking on its own, seemingly, moved quickly up and down to the rhythm of the teenager’s heart.

 

Fuck, Derek was just an inch away from ripping Stiles’ underwear from his hips, and he would, if it wasn’t for one sudden realisation.

 

“Stiles, do we have a--”, he started, hesitatingly. “You know, a-- Do we have a lube, of some sorts?”

 

“Wha--” Stiles was pretty much out from all the experiences he had just had, the licking, the warm breath on his skin, a little scratchy stubble on his belly.

 

“Lube, do we have any?”

 

“Don’t think so,” Stiles said.

 

“Fine, wait, I think I know where to find it. I’ll be right back”

 

“Noooo, don’t leave me!”, Stiles moaned as Derek stood up and left the room, still in his tank top and boxer shorts, blushing a bit, since he had probably just realised how hard he was.

 

Alpha snuck out, and Stiles reached to grab Derek’s shirt. He held it close to his face and sniffed it. He could smell Derek on it so easily it was almost too easy. He could smell something like resin, the scent of the air after a storm, and sweat, and that combination made him slide his hand down his boxers. With alpha’s shirt in one hand, he began playing with himself a little. He couldn’t bear being apart from Derek, not now, not while--

 

“Save something for me,” he heard, and opened his eyes to see Derek at the door, gazing at him lustfully.

 

“Then come and get some yourself,” Stiles replied teasingly as Derek threw a bottle of lube on the bed, took off the tank top and laid on top of him. Their skin touched, and that sent warm sensations down Stiles’ spine. Lead by a sudden urge, he lifted the hand he had in his boxers just seconds ago to his face, right between his and Derek’s lips, and licked it.

 

That crossed the final line of Derek’s inhibitions. He kissed Stiles with a fast, greedy kiss, pressed his tongue hard into his mouth, and pulled down his briefs and his own boxers at the same time. Stiles groaned when they touched, when he felt Derek pressed against his hip.

 

After that, it all became blurry. The panting, accelerated heartbeats. Licking, biting. Kissing and scratching. A little bit of hair pulling. Some growling and moaning.

 

Derek was thoughtful and careful. He made sure Stiles wasn’t getting hurt in any way, he managed to suppress his inner wolf, he didn’t retract his claws that much and his teeth remained human, at least they were every time he bit Stiles’s neck.

 

When Derek first entered him, slowly, gently, he moaned, and he thought that moan was loud. He bit his lip to stop, and lifted his head to kiss alpha’s lips again. But after a moment that seemed like forever, Derek began thrusting, faster and faster, and then all what was coming out of his mouth was a long groan, louder and louder, muffled only by Derek’s lips. Deep in alpha’s chest, a low growl arose, a deep vibration that almost sent Stiles overboard.

 

Those could be five minutes, could be five hours. The time seemed to cease existing, just for the two of them. Just for that moment.

 

But after a while, Stiles could not withhold any longer. Derek’s hands, lips, smell, stubble had driven him almost insane. He arched his back, dug his nails in Derek’s shoulder blades and came. A moan died in his throat, not a single sound escaped. And, for a couple of seconds, he didn’t so much forget to breathe as he forgot _how_ to breathe.

 

Seeing that, Derek also came, inside Stiles, with a hoarse groan as his body shivered with pleasure. He pressed his forehead on the teenager’s shoulder and breathed deeply a couple of times before he could lift his head and look Stiles in the eye.

 

“That was--”, he began, but he was totally lost on words at that moment.

 

“Awesome,” Stiles finished for him, smiling widely.

 

“Yeah, I was looking for that one,” Derek laughed.

 

“Not doing a great job, fluffy.”

 

“Not my fault. Your eyes distracted me.”

 

“Stop being sweet. You may fall into a shock, and I have just started having mind-blowing sex with you. I’m not ready to stop, and I won’t be, like, ever,” Stiles said softly, stealing another light kiss from Derek, and a couple of tissues from the nightstand to clean himself with. He had a very serious plan of forcing the werewolf into a nightful of cuddling and he had to start putting the plan to life right away. The nice attitude might just be a phase, Stiles’ sarcastic side said in his head. But he knew one thing for sure.

 

It was not a phase. It was the real Derek.

 


End file.
